Taken from life. “I sent money for 15 years”: now they say that I did not do anything important

I left when the youngest was six years old. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/dd6d99/620x0/1/0/2025/04/02/gcnwcedg5teer4djc8r3v2baf7j8a8a8laezbuq0a.jpg" alt = "woman @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (180,171,160,1)" > < p > he adhered to my SP & oacute; dawcy, cried, did not understand why I could not stay.

< p > older C & oacute; Rka was offended. She didn't say a word, she just looked at me with her hard eyes.

< p > and I … I only had a one -way ticket, a suitcase and a heart in pieces. < p > work abroad was not a dream. It was a necessity. < p > I cleaned homes, looked after older people, slept on a fold -out mattress in the kitchen. I was counting every penny

< P >But every month & ndash; Like clock & ndash; I sent money home. To notebooks, jackets, doctor. For food, tuition fee, new ice & oacute; For the holidays & ndash; Additionally. For birthday & ndash; Always with an envelope. I have never forgotten.

< p > I heard on the phone:

< p > — & AMP; Bdquo; Thank you, mom. We love you. & Amp;

< p > and then & ndash; over time & ndash; less and less often. More and more conversations. More and more silence.

< p > until only transfers and confirmations from the bank. Wr & oacute; I had after fifteen years.

< p > with gray hair, aching joints and a suitcase in which I have fit my whole life.

< p > c & oacute; Rka already had their own children. The son was right after the wedding. I sat with them at the table, for the first time in years. < p > I asked:

< p > — & AMP; BDQUO; or at least a little missed ? &

< p > a c & oacute; no, without a shadow of malice, only coldly said:

< p > — & AMP; BDQUO; You were far away, mom. It's not the same as to be here. We did everything without you. < p > I froze.

< p > because then I realized that for them my years of dedication were only transfers. That they did not see tears, which I cried in foreign houses.

< P > They didn't see how I hugged the pillow when I heard their voices only in the phone. They did not see that for them I stopped being a woman & ndash; to be support, a wall, a bank, hope.

< p > and today ?

< p > m & oacute; I have no. That I did nothing important.

< p > and yet everything I have & ndash; I lost them to have more. They just forgot to add that sometimes the presence is measured not only with the body, but with the heart. < p > and my heart was with them. Every day. For fifteen long years.